


Mail Call

by Moiself



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Bushi & Naito are old marrieds, Bushi is a mother hen, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, slightly melancholy Hiromu, this is probably not as Christmassy as it could have been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 22:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16880568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiself/pseuds/Moiself
Summary: Being stuck on the sidelines is no fun for Hiromu, but at least there's always his fan mail to remind him how much people still care.





	Mail Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lamentomori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/gifts).



> Prompt from list published on my tumblr - Pudding - requested for Hiro & my choice, hope you like where the muses led me!

“Do you need anything else before we go?” Bushi smoothed a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind Hiromu’s ear. “This is getting so long…are you sure you don’t want me to trim it for you?”

Hiromu batted his hand away with affectionate irritation. “I’ll get it cut when I can go to a proper place, and no thank you _mama_ , I’m fine for now.”

“Alright, but if it gets starts getting like this one’s I’m going to let myself in and shave it while you’re asleep one night.”

Hiromu’s shriek of alarm was matched by Naito’s cry of amused outrage. “Hey! Leave the hair alone. It’s my crowning glory, my treasure…”

Bushi slipped an arm around the bigger man’s waist, craning upwards to steal a kiss. “I thought _I_ was your treasure.”

“Yes, well...of course you are, love.” Pulling his treasure into a close embrace, Naito kissed him deeply, their moment broken by the soft thunk of a stuffed cat bouncing off Bushi’s shoulder.

Unwrapping himself from his partner, Naito rescued Daryl Junior from the floor, returning him to his seat of honour next to Hiromu. 

“Hey now little weasel...that’s not nice, throwing things at your mama.” He ruffled the hair Bushi had smoothed, ignoring the background tutting from both he and Hiromu. 

“You said you had another bag for me,” Hiromu pouted. “I didn’t want you to forget and go home with it still in your car again.”

“That was one time, Hiro!”

“Don’t worry, I made him bring it in with us…” Bushi hefted a gratifyingly full looking mail sack from the spot inside the doorway where it had been left and set it carefully beside Hiromu while Naito fussed around looking for Hiromu’s letter opener and trash can, placing them both in easy reach.

“Heavy one today. Looks like you’ve a few parcels in there too...should keep you busy for a while.” Naito gave Hiromu’s arm a last gentle squeeze, before joining Bushi at the doorway. “We’ll leave you to it then…”

With a little flurry of goodbyes and see you laters, Bushi and Naito went, leaving Hiromu with only Daryl Junior and the mailbag for company. He felt an extraordinary sense of relief each time the office sent one of these over, each bag a reminder that the fans still cared, that he hadn’t been forgotten about. Almost worse than the pain had been the fear that with such a long road to recovery ahead of him, he would slip from people’s memories, none of the reassurances from any of his _parejas_ doing anything to ease his mind when he was feeling low. 

Then the mail started, though Hiromu supposed it had started almost as soon as he had first gotten hurt, well wishes flooding in, being held back at the office until he was declared well enough to receive them. Even then quite a while passed before he was able to open the mail himself, his fellow _Ingobernables_ all taking their turns to read a handful to him when they visited. Hiromu was grateful for their help, but very glad when he was able to open the envelopes and parcels himself. 

He had made a little ritual of it. First off he moved the bag to his lap and lifted the items out in small careful handfuls, stacking them in the empty space to his left, then with the bag empty and set to his right, Hiromu would pull his table closer, and leaving any parcels to last, take his letter opener, a gift from Milano by way of Sanada to save his artist’s fingers, and pick up the first envelope, always taking a moment to note where it had been sent from. 

Once read, the letters would be returned to the mail bag with the exception of a few cards and drawings kept to brighten up his room and changed regularly...and the small collection of letters and postcards all written in the same hand that were tucked away in his bedside table.

A hand that did not appear to be present on any of the envelopes Hiromu had piled up beside him. That was disappointing, but there was still lots to be opened and lots to be read, so after allowing himself one small sigh, Hiromu jumped into the pleasurable task. 

Today’s mail seemed to be pretty similar to usual, though Hiromu notice that some of the postage stamps from overseas were now carrying Christmas designs, lots of tiny snowy scenes and brightly lit trees and jolly fat snowmen, and there was a smattering of Christmas cards scattered amongst the colourful get well soons. 

Hiromu wasn’t entirely sure if it made him happy or sad to see that so much time had already passed. He had missed far too many weeks and months already, but then again, each day that passed was one day closer to being able to step through the ropes and take his rightful place next to his misfit family.

“I should try to be happy, shouldn’t I?” Hiromu asked his companion, taking Daryl Junior’s placid stare as agreement. 

Spirits lifted, he returned to the task at hand, working through the mail until all that remained were two parcels, one a squishy package, the other a smallish well taped and heavily stickered and stamped box. Picking up the box, he found it surprisingly weighty for its size and reading the address label, noticed with glee that it had been written in the bold scrawl he had been hoping to see. Setting it aside to save for last, he opened the other parcel, finding matching hats for himself and both the Daryls, thoughtfully crafted by a fan.

Wanting to properly savour the moment, Hiromu diligently cleared everything else away; opened mail into the bag it had arrived in, emptied envelopes and torn paper into the trash. Satisfied that no distractions remained, and with the now behatted Daryl Junior on his lap, pulled the final parcel close and all patience now exhausted, slid his paper knife long the taped seam.

“I wonder what we’ve got here, Daryl.” He opened the flaps and lifted out the contents, currently obscured by a mass of bubble wrap and tape. “Whatever it is, he wanted it to arrive in one piece anyway.”

The bubble wrap proved a little tricker to get through than the tape on the box, but Hiromu persevered.

Only for his excitement to turn to confusion as the last layer fell away.

“12 month...not sure what that next bit says... _fruity Christmas Pudding_...huh…doesn’t look much like pudding.” Hiromu set Daryl Junior on the table and picked up the inner box to get a closer look, dislodging a folded slip of paper from where it had been tucked in amongst all the wrapping. He set the pudding back down and snatched up the note.

_Dear Hiromu,_

_I’ve got a proper letter half written at home but this is just a quick note because I’m out with mum and I saw this today. I remembered you said it’s your favourite so I wanted to get it in the post right away for you. Hope you enjoy!_

_Love always,_

_Will_ 🐾

Hiromu clutched the little missive to his heart. His Will was thinking about him...he’d got a little confused in the translation, not for the first time and no doubt not for the last either, but Hiromu had been in his thoughts even though they were so far apart.

“He thought it was purin! Oh, Daryl, what are we going to do with him...it must have cost a lot to send all the way from England. We’ll have to try it later,” He popped open the package, a waft of spicy boozy aroma hitting him in the face. “Ooof...much later maybe. But I think it would only be polite to let him know it arrived.” 

A glance at the clock confirmed that he still had lots of time before the physical therapist arrived for his next session, and that though it would be early for Will, it wouldn’t be too early. He grabbed his phone and opened Facetime, smiling happily when the call connected and a familiar rumpled blond head appeared.

“Hiromu! Babe! Oh my god, I’m so happy you called…”


End file.
